


Home

by USS_Hannigram (uss_hilson)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Nazis, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uss_hilson/pseuds/USS_Hannigram
Summary: Hannibal travels to his childhood home to find what was left behind, knowing how dangerous it would be to step foot on his family's land one last time.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Margot Verger/Mason Verger, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 7





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by NBC’s Hannibal, Season 3 episode “Secondo”.
> 
> NOTE: No incest occurs, but if you know about Mason and Margot's background, you understand what happened between them.

_“It’s true what they say,” Lecter_ thought, ___“ _you can never go home again._ ” Or___, perhaps it was just that **he** should have never attempted to go home again. Regardless, here he was, back at Lecter Castle. 

Hannibal reached into his suit jacket’s inner pocket to retrieve a tarnished key. He used the key to open the lock that kept the chain wrapped in place around the estate’s gated doors. He removed the chain and discarded it on the ground next to him before pulling open one door that creaked as its rusted hinges were forced to work for the first time in years. Not bothering to look around him, he entered the curtilage of his family’s home for the first time in 30 years. Chiyoh had sent word to him that their prisoner had died and that she was leaving. (They had established an international message system long ago that Lecter paid a handsome sum to maintain all this time. Within days, he was able to alert Chiyoh of his location, and she was able to alert him of any changes within his ancestral home’s inhabitants.) “ _After all, that swine was the only thing tethering her to the property, so why shouldn’t she leave? And why shouldn’t he return?_ ” Lecter asked himself.

He began hiking up to the mansion. Most of the grounds were overgrown in a way where the land was returning to nature, but nature was also tending to the grounds by letting the deer and rodents feast on the grass, keeping it naturally shorter than he’d expected. After several minutes, Lecter approached the house and stopped to take a calming breath at the large wooden doors in front of him. He thought about using the key again, but considered that perhaps Chiyoh had left the doors unlocked upon her departure. 

Hannibal depressed the brass door handle and felt a click that signaled that the door would open upon being pushed. Slowly, deliberately, Hannibal entered the grand foyer of his childhood home. He held his breath, reliving flashes of memories long past. He remembered his parents, his sisters, his cat. He remembered his family’s servants who were loyal until the end, when his parents discharged them and plead with them to run for their lives to avoid capture. Lecter raised his head and sniffed the air. Surprisingly, it wasn’t stale. Chiyoh had done a good job at keeping the house functioning, at least for her own needs. There was a faint smell of grouse and wine – the house certainly smelled better than the last time Hannibal Lecter was there.


	2. Recollection

Walking slowly, Hannibal went through the first floor, room by room. He observed that several of the rooms were unused, their furniture covered by large, dark sheets. There were other rooms whose couches were ripped apart for their stuffing so that the house’s inhabitants at the time would have fuel for the hearths. While some might view it as sad, Lecter would have admired the tenacity to survive if it hadn’t meant that the couch stuffing was used to boil the pots which held his sister’s meat in a stew those many years ago.

After sitting in a room that remained untouched by the soldiers he last encountered as a boy, Lecter decided to walk upstairs to where the family’s rooms had been. He stopped first at the master bedroom. His parents had decorated it in purple, fitting since they were – technically - royalty. His mother had impeccable taste, and had royal plum drapes hung over the wall-length windows. Because they were velvet, the drapes had attracted decades worth of dust. The large bed was stripped of its mahogany headboard and baseboard, both having been used to stoke fires long since extinguished. Hannibal walked up to his mother’s dressers only to find that anything of value had long been stolen or destroyed. Even her fine slips had been used as kindling. He went to his father’s armoire and expected to find the same.

“ _Hanni, now don’t you tell anyone where Papa keeps his treasures.” Hannibal’s father had depressed the back of a square drawer which sprung open. Several family medals hung, along with the Lecter coat of arms. Hannibal had coveted that small pin which displayed three different animals – all deadly, all powerful. Even at the tender age of five, the symbol excited him._

Hannibal knew that it was a long shot, but this was likely going to be his only chance to check – he opened the drawer, and reached his right hand inside. He pressed on the drawer’s back and it budged, but it didn’t swing open. Lecter withdrew a small knife from his pocket and extended it so that he could use it to help pry open the drawer. The wood was covered in dust and grime, but with careful effort, it started to open. Slowly, slowly. Finally, Hannibal had worked the back open enough to use his fingertips. The back swung forward and a cloud of dust was released from the silk lining that used to hold his father’s medals. Hannibal’s brows lowered in defeat, but his fingers decided to feel around in case his eyes were missing anything in the dark. He felt a pinprick and grabbed the offending object **. It was the Lecter family crest pin!** The not-so-young Master Lecter put his bleeding finger in his mouth, smiling around the injured digit. If this was the only thing he found during this trip, it was still well worth the effort.

After his finger stopped bleeding, Hannibal went through the rest of the bedrooms. The rooms of his sisters, the room of their nanny, and finally, his own room. He stepped into a room filled with stale air, instantly recognizing the wooden giraffe he had spent hours playing with as a toddler. A handful of books were scattered in a small pile – mostly children’s books about animals and other lands. Hannibal’s breath caught in his throat upon seeing the pale pink cloth that he had designated as his cat’s blanket. _“To avoid getting her fur all over your bed, Hanni,” his mother had explained. And it was almost as if Flora knew that she could prove her worth by staying on that cloth. Once Hannibal had trained her, he would often wait until his mother had tucked him in for the night to move the cloth up towards his chest. There, he would pet Flora and lay next to her, feeling content from the warmth of her body purring next to him._


	3. Memory

After remembering the happy times he had with his family, Hannibal decided to stop avoiding the castle’s labyrinthian underbuilding. It was there that, before the war, the family kept a wine cellar. It also contained cells for prisoners of war for the various skirmishes the Lecters were involved in since the 1300s. Those cells had remained empty for over a century until the last set of soldiers came. After they had taken what they wanted, eaten _whom_ they wanted, all but two left in order to scout out nearby villages. Hannibal, in the rage that only a boy who has not yet become a man can feel, murdered the man who was supposed to be keeping watch over him.

Hannibal’s Aunt Murasaki had been dispatched with her servant girl, a young Chiyoh, to retrieve Hannibal and Mischa once their Uncle Robertus had learned that his brother and sister-in-law had been murdered in their attempt to secure passage for their family out of Lithuania. (Lecter’s older sister had joined a group of resistance fighters, but was ultimately shot and left to rot in a Warsaw ghetto.) When Lecter’s aunt entered the castle, she had found Hannibal down on his knees, disemboweling a man whose neck had just been sliced open. 

Lady Murasaki and Chiyoh had hardly persuaded Hannibal to step away from the freshly mutilated corpse before the other soldier had returned from hunting pheasant. Hannibal remembered pleading with his aunt to let him destroy the soldier as the soldier had destroyed Mischa, but she insisted that he be caged as a prisoner. Murasaki would send word to Robertus that the sight of seeing Hannibal ripping apart a grown man’s intestines with his own hands chilled her, staying only one night before going off to put distance between her and her nephew. Chiyoh had promised her guardian that she would stay with Hannibal to ensure that he wouldn’t repeat what they had walked in on. 

Hannibal and Chiyoh would stay at the Lecter Estate together for a month before his aunt sent word to them. As if Hannibal hadn’t lost enough family, his uncle had passed from a coronary. Hannibal had considered disappearing into the woods nearby, but Chiyoh plead with him that to leave his prisoner alone to die without food or water would be inhumane. “ _Fine,” Hannibal countered, “then he is your burden. If you don’t wish to see him die, then it’s up to you to keep him alive. I would gladly kill him right here and now, eat his liver to satisfy my hunger, and bash his skull open to satisfy my curiousity, if it were up to me.”_

_"_ _But, it shouldn’t be up to you,” Chiyoh countered. “It should be up to God. That man is one of God’s creatures, as misguided and lost as he may be.”_

_“You have become his god. If he dies, he will die at your hands. If he lives, it is because you took the effort to keep him alive. And for what? To live in misery? What sort of god is that?”_

Lecter’s footsteps seemed to echo as he walked down the wide staircase leading to the castle’s underground chambers. He expected to find a dingy man, limp in a pool of his own blood. Chiyoh had sent word that she’d had to slice the soldier’s throat, just as Hannibal had wanted to do so many years ago.


	4. Admiration

Hannibal long regarded death as an art form. The presentation of one’s body after death can be a way for one to live on immortally. However, what Lecter expected and what he found were two different things.

As Hannibal’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, they instinctively went towards the cells crafted of iron. There were shards of broken wine bottle scattered about. Chiyoh had told him that she had to stab the man with the broken neck of the bottle of wine she’d brought down. However, there was more glass on the stone tile than what would come from just one bottle. 

Feeling that he was not alone, Hannibal looked up. What he saw was instantly breathtaking and ghoulish. What could have only been that ragged Nazi soldier had been transformed into what looked to be a moth or a dragonfly. Wings were fashioned from broken shards of wine bottles, the man had been woven into a harness which held him in midair. A soft glow could also be seen from a multitude of June bugs. It appeared that whomever had crafted this physical love letter to him had known of his cochlear garden as snails enveloped what skin was visible. Hannibal’s first thought – after awe – was to cut the man down, but why? Why ruin such a beautiful statement? After all, what beauty could possibly come from a Nazi soldier that wasn’t the transformation in death that hung elevated above him?

If not for Chiyoh’s message, Hannibal might have wondered if she had taken it upon herself to craft such an exquisite installation. Instead, Lecter knew who had crafted this, and it was the one person from whom he would expect nothing less – Will Graham. Hannibal had known that Will would come looking for him. In fact, Will had found Hannibal in a cathedral in Palermo, although the two did not meet. However, Lecter knew that despite Will telling him that he forgave him, Will would attack him if the two had met face to face. But, knowing that Will had met up with Chiyoh, Lecter knew that Will had learned about Mischa. Will had learned about Lecter’s mercy to his Nazi capturer by forcing responsibility for the man’s life upon his aunt’s ward. 

Will had previously known about the darkness inside of Hannibal, but traveling to the Lecter Estate provided him with knowledge about the cause of Hannibal’s darkness. It wasn’t until Hannibal saw the old Nazi strung up and fashioned into an insect that he knew that, even if he hadn’t yet done so when the two men had nearly ran into one another in Italy, Will **had** finally forgiven him. Neither man would ever stop grieving Abigail’s death, but perhaps if Hannibal could find Will and truly communicate with him again, the two could move on together as they had planned.

After making a place for the dead soldier in one of the darker, more dangerous rooms of his memory palace, Lecter decided to ascend into the living quarters of his family’s castle. He had not yet visited the hunting lodge on the grounds, and he knew that Chiyoh had favoured it when she needed time away from her burden. Given that the smaller house was not the scene of his first cannibalistic experience, Lecter had also preferred his memory of the lodge these last years.


	5. Discovery

After a short hike through a thin copse of trees, Hannibal came across the dilapidated cabin. The Lecter family seal still hung above the entrance, but the once strong timbers that comprised the lodge were beginning to rot. Moss grew on the ground outside of the house, receiving nourishment from the rain that fell off of the roof, onto the ground outside the front window. The front window that had looked out from the kitchen had been broken years ago, and was hastily covered over with scrap wood. Hannibal figured that Chiyoh must have tried to repair the damage with what she had available, but for the most part, she had to use whatever she could salvage from the estate that the Nazis hadn’t looted themselves.

Lecter noticed that the cabin door was cracked open ever so slightly, as if someone had entered and closed it behind them without paying attention to whether it had locked. He pulled his knife back out, uncertain of what or whom he would find inside, and slowly pushed open the door. Hinges creaked in a low groan. Hannibal waited to walk inside until his eyes adjusted to the light. “Hello,” he called out. 

A low moan came from somewhere in the cabin, but it was several rooms over. Hannibal moved forward carefully, sidestepping so that he was a smaller target to any would-be attackers. “Hello,” he tried again. He walked through the kitchen and into the family room. To his right he saw the faint glow of a kerosene lamp that was nearly out of oil. “Who are you?”

A covered figure on a settee raised up, shielding its face with one hand. “Wait, wait. I was just sleeping.” The figure’s blanket slunk around its frame as a hand reached out for the lamp to adjust the flame higher. “ **Hannibal**?”

“Will, what are you still doing here?”

“Chiyoh pushed me off of a train. We were going at a good pace and this was the only place I could limp back to, and even that nearly killed me.” Will looked up at Hannibal. It had been so long, yet Lecter looked as polished and perfect as ever. As for Will, he felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck.

Hannibal smiled. “Yes, she told me.”

“You spoke?”

“Not directly, no. I maintain a line of communication for her to reach out, if need be. It’s good to see you, Will.”

“Thanks, but you’ll either have to finish the job or get me some help because I’ve got at least two bruised ribs. I’m really beat up.” Hannibal could see bright purple bruising along Will’s temple and across his cheek. 

“Of course I’ll help.” 

“ _That’s not as descriptive as I’d like_ ,” Will thought. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you told me that you could never come back except in your mind palace.”

“I came back for you.” Hannibal sat down beside Will and looked into the other man’s eyes, smirking slightly. He put one arm under Will’s arm and started to rise. “Up you go!” Will groaned, but he managed to get to his feet. 

“I hope I didn’t grab the bruised ribs.”

“No,” Will replied. “It’s the other side. For being caught completely off guard, I managed to roll onto my right side…mostly.” 

The two men started their long, slow walk back to the castle before Will broke the silence. “What’s it like, being back?”

Hannibal glanced at the shorter man. “It’s different. I still remember the horrible things that happened here, but now I can remember the good times, too. When my mom read me bedtime stories. Exploring the woods. Listening to my father recount stories of relatives that had passed on long before I was born. And now, you’re here.”


	6. Nourishment

The two men took frequent breaks so that Will could catch his breath and regain a few moments of strength. Graham couldn’t help but be impressed that Hannibal didn’t seem to get winded at all, despite practically carrying Will at times. Finally, the two men arrived at the Lecter ancestral home and Hannibal helped Will inside. “I was beginning to think that we’d never make it,” Will admitted weakly.

“Surely, you don’t think that I would let you die out there.”

Will raised his eyes and grinned after Hannibal had set him into a chair. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you left me alone.”

“That was different, Will. That only happened because you weren’t willing to trust me.” Hannibal’s way of saying, “ _I left you to bleed out after I cut Abigail’s throat only after you betrayed us by alerting Jack Crawford”_ was quite artful.

“What now?” Will asked.

“Now, you sit, rest, and try not to slump and put pressure on your ribs. I’ll find something to make a soup. There have always been mushrooms around the grounds, and I **know** that there’s still plenty of snails.” Hannibal grinned at Will, letting the other man know that he’d seen his artwork that rested below them. 

Lecter went back outside and walked over towards some nearby trees. As expected, he found handfuls of mushrooms. Growing up on the grounds, he knew which were safe to ingest and gathered them up accordingly. He went into the kitchen and found a large pot before going back outside to where the water pump was located. The family had not transitioned to indoor plumbing before the war had begun, but Hannibal knew that Chiyoh had been using the antiquated water pump successfully for years. He filled the pot and walked back carefully to the house before lighting the kitchen hearth with Chiyoh’s leftover firewood, and arranging the pot so that it could start to boil.

Hannibal returned to Will. “How are you holding up?”

Will’s eyes had been closed. He half-opened them to respond to Hannibal. “Still alive. Still feeling horrible. I am hungry though, after you mentioned something. I love mushrooms.”

Hannibal smiled. “I know. I’d fed them to you many times before.”

“You’ve fed me many things before, several without my knowledge,” Will retorted.

“And yet you’re still here today – we both are. No harm, no foul. Speaking of no fowl, I hope that you like escargot?”

“I can honestly say that I don’t know. But, I’m willing to try anything right now.” Will thought a moment before amending his answer. “ **Almost** anything.”

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Hannibal said before leaving to go to the chambers below. He found plenty of live snails crawling below Will’s installation. Spotting a small, old copper pot, he filled it with the small creatures before grabbing two bottles of wine. It had been a long time since his father had allowed him to sneak a sip of the family’s vintage; now he was a man several times over. He wondered if it would still taste as sweet. Unfortunately, he would not have the opportunity to try his family's vintage.

After obtaining what he needed, Hannibal scaled the castle’s basement for what would be the last time. He went to the cutting table in the kitchen and was happy to find that Chiyoh had kept a chef’s knife sharp and rust-free. After dumping the snails on the butcher’s block, Hannibal carefully removed some of the boiling pot’s water and used an old colander which he used to dip the snails into the copper pot. He waited a few minutes before he removed them and allowed them to cool, then he broke open their shells to cut them into pieces. While the snails were cooling, he allowed the mushrooms to steep in the pot. He sliced the mushrooms into quarters and put them back into the water. After the smell started to leach the air, Hannibal placed the decimated snails in with the mushrooms. It wasn’t fancy, but it would give Will the protein he needed if the two of them were to leave this place.

As he searched the kitchen, Hannibal found some salt and a pepper grinder, along with a few dried herbs that Chiyoh had hanging in a corner. The weird soup was far from gourmet, but Hannibal was pleased by its flavour and aroma. He was certain that Will would like it. Scrounging two bowls, Hannibal ladled out a bowl for Will, capturing extra mushrooms and snails, while grabbing whatever the spoon caught for himself. He went back to where Will was waiting, this time with his eyes open. He hadn’t lied about being hungry.

“Here, eat this,” Hannibal directed, handing a bowl to Will.

“Thanks.” Will hadn’t bothered asking for a spoon. Instead, he cautiously sipped the soup, using his first two fingers and thumb on his right hand to snag out some mushrooms. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

Hannibal took a sip from his own bowl before responding. “I’m glad that you like it – you’ll need your strength. We’re going to have to leave here, and that will mean traveling, which means that you’ll need to walk because I can’t possibly carry you the whole way. Let’s hope that the next town over has a train running.”

“How soon do we have to leave?”

“As soon as possible. This place isn’t safe,” Hannibal responded.

Will paused, his fingers holding a piece of snail. “But there’s no one here anymore. No one but us.”

“For now, yes. But, you know as well as I do that I’m being hunted. Now, finish your soup. I’ll find some more firewood so that the hearth stays lit all night, and then I’ll see if I can’t find another blanket. I haven’t camped out on this floor for many years.”

True to his word, Hannibal grabbed more firewood from Chiyoh’s unused stack outside the kitchen. He used a poker to arrange the wood so that it would burn all night, and then set about going to all doors he could think of and trying his best to lock them. Some had deadbolts, others had been damaged to where only moving pieces of damaged furniture would provide any protection from anything – be it man or beast – that may attempt to enter. Unfortunately, Hannibal struck out in his search for one of his mother’s old woolen blankets. He found a small remnant, but it wasn’t enough to allow him to sleep on the floor without freezing, even with the fire going. Regardless, it’s all that he had. 

He returned to the fire with what little he had found. “Ok Will, time to sleep. Get comfortable, mind your ribs, and keep covered.” Hannibal sat on the ground next to the settee, trying to cover himself the best he could with his scrap of cloth.

“Hannibal, you can’t sleep there,” Will protested.

“We both need to stay near the fire, and you certainly can’t be sleeping on the floor. My mother would have never allowed a guest to sleep on the floor.”

Will raised his eyebrows and pouted. “Then sit here with me. Besides, whatever that is you’ve got isn’t enough.” Hannibal rose, holding the poker. He’d planned to sleep with it that night in case of an intruder. Will moved to the side closest to the fire and allowed Hannibal to sit next to him. “Here,” he said, pulling the blanket towards Hannibal. “I’ll never get out of this alive if you end up freezing to death.”

Hannibal considered the situation he was in and removed his shoes, sliding them under the couch. He moved so that his left leg snaked between Will and the back of the chair. “You can lay your back against my chest. The blanket will cover us both now.” He threw the remnant so that it acted as a second layer to cover Will’s feet. The poker rested against the arm of the couch. Hannibal had been certain that Will would protest being cradled in his body, but apparently he was too tired and worn to do anything besides what was asked of him. Will let his head fall so that it was resting against the inside of Hannibal’s shoulder, the other man’s strong arms around him to both warm and protect him.

Will fell asleep quickly, and slept more restfully than he had in days, weeks. ( _Perhaps years_.) He did startle awake once when the fire cracked; Will had forgotten that he was being held by Hannibal, and started to move his head when he felt Hannibal’s nose and lips at the back of his head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe – just sleep,” Hannibal murmured into Will’s hair, inhaling to smell the other man. Will needed a bath, but Hannibal took comfort in Will’s natural smell which had returned since he had recovered from his bout of encephalitis. 

Will soon went limp again in Hannibal’s arms, and Hannibal found himself feeling drowsy. While he had not endured what Will had, he nevertheless had a daunting last few days. In fact, until a few days ago, Hannibal had never expected that he would ever return home again. Unfortunately, the dark memories that clung to his ancestral home made it a dangerous place for Hannibal, although he had yet to know the extent of the danger.


	7. Transformation

The two men intertwined beneath a blanket, asleep on a couch near a lit hearth would have made for a romantic scene in a movie showcasing a new relationship. Later, when there was nothing to do but think, Hannibal would regret allowing himself to be lulled to sleep by Will’s rhythmic breathing. While he had at first kept the hearth poker in his hand, he later propped it up against his left knee. And then, after he had fallen deep asleep, Hannibal had not awoken until one of Mason Verger’s henchman, a young Italian named Matteo, knocked it to the ground in reaching to grab a fistful of Lecter’s hair to drag him to his feet. 

“UP, UP, LECTOR!” the young Italian yelled. Will startled awake as Hannibal was trying to assess the situation. Graham hadn’t yet made it off the couch before another man was yanking him to his feet. Thankfully, one of the benefits to his horrible childhood trauma was Hannibal’s ability to react quickly. He slumped enough to allow his left hand to reach down and grab the fire poker which he then thrust upwards, impaling Matteo in the eye. “AYYYYYYY!” Lecter then used his recently freed left hand to grab Matteo’s shirt collar and lower the man towards his teeth. In no time at all, Lecter’s attacker was missing his right cheek. The doctour twisted the poker out of the Italian’s eye and aimed it for the screaming man’s throat before pulling it out, promptly ending Matteo’s screaming as he fell to the floor, his last living act.

The man that had pulled Will to his feet started screaming. “MATTEO! MIO FRATELLO! NOOO!!!” Lecter looked at him and smiled before two other men grab his arms from behind, restraining him. “I will kill you, I will kill you!” One of Hannibal’s capturers tried to grab the poker from his clenched fist, but the doctour’s grip was firm. He widened his grin and then headbutted the man, causing him to collapse. Unfortunately, that man’s partner quickly withdrew a small pistol from his waistband and cocked it, shoving it against Lecter’s head. 

“No no no, signore,” the man to Lecter’s right hissed. “I will kill you and your friend here if you don’t stop.”

“But if you do that, then Mason will kill you himself,” Lecter shot back. The men had the unmistakable stench of pig offal emanating off their clothes. Lecter was certain that they had flown on one of Mason’s personal jets straight to Lithuania the moment Verger had learned about the estate.

"Worth it.” The gun was shoved harder into Lecter’s head.

“No!” the man restraining Will screamed. “We need justice. For Matteo!” The hand holding the gun pulled back slightly so that the gun was no longer bearing into Lecter’s skull. Unfortunately for Hannibal, it was still against his head, killing any notion of a quick maneuver he might have had.

“H _annibal_?” Will finally spoke, his voice clouded in sleep.

“Yes, Will. It will be okay. These swine are here to take us back to Mason Verger’s where he will invariably attempt to torture and murder us.”

“I would kill you myself if I could!” Matteo’s brother snarled.

“And I you,” Lecter replied. “But that is not to be at the moment. Now, why don’t we get going? I’ll warn you though, my friend is in rough shape so if there’s a bounty on his head as well, you must be extra careful. Rough him up too much and you’re likely to kill him.” Will couldn’t believe it – he couldn’t figure out if Hannibal was watching out for him or preparing an opening for Will to strike should he find himself unrestrained for more than a moment.

The words no sooner left Lecter’s mouth than both men had rough-hewn burlap sacks shoved over their heads. “Silenzio!” Lecter and Graham were pulled out of the room where they were marched onto a plane before being strapped in as a pilot announced to their capturers that they would be departing for the United States within five minutes. Verger’s men ripped the sacks off their heads, the man with the gun shaking the weapon between the two, silently threatening them.

“Will, can you hear me?” Lecter asked.

“Yes.”

“Yawn. Make yourself yawn, and try to breathe deeply and calmly while we ascend.” Those were the last words Hannibal spoke before he was hit upside the back of his head and passed out. Because both he and Will were then drugged, neither man would awake before they touched the ground. Their eyes would open upon being awakened by a cattle prod, yet two more animals on the Verger Estate.


	8. Torture

Hannibal awoke to the sound of Will screaming. He instinctively looked towards Will, his brow furrowed, before facing forward to stare down Mason Verger. “Why, Dr. Lecter, it’s so nice of you to join us.” Mason was delighted to greet the man he viewed as his nemesis; however, in doing so, his excitement caused him to slur his words more than normal. 

“You gave me no choice, Mason. However, you could have left Mr. Graham out of your attempt for revenge.”

“Nonsense! It was in Graham’s house that you made me dismember myself. And it was Graham that you convinced to impregnate my sister. That was _my_ job, _I_ was going to do that, but instead, you forced me to have to change my plans.”

“You ripped out her uterus,” Will responded weakly. 

“Oh, don’t tell me that you have feelings for my sister? Is that why you mounted her like a rutting stag? Or were you just trying to see how your psychiatrist would react?” Mason’s words stung them both. Will had felt a connection to Margot in that they were both damaged but willing to be with one another physically, although at the time he hadn’t realised that Margot was just using him as an unwitting sperm donor. And while Will had repeatedly broached the subject during their relationship, Hannibal was fiercely jealous but would refuse to acknowledge his envy of anyone else who happened to get close to Will. _However, he always managed to sow discourse between them – Jack, Alana, Margot. Hannibal always found ways to alienate them whether it was causing them to doubt Will or simply manipulating them._

“Mason, let’s not be hasty. If you eat dessert first, you have nothing to anticipate throughout dinner,” Hannibal chided. 

A voice rang out. “I should cut your head off for Matteo!”

“Enrique, calm down! There _will_ be justice for Matteo – I already told you there would. But, before that happens, I have plans for Dr. Lecter and his… friend. Now, take them into the house and let Cordell prepare them.” Mason controlled his wheelchair to turn. He started towards the house, leaving his two prisoners in the hands of the man who kept crying for justice along with others in the Verger employ. 

Hannibal told Will to remain calm, and to be careful, but that was all he was allowed to say before Enrique backhanded him, knocking his head to one side. Lecter kept his head cocked as he reached his tongue out to touch the corner of his lips where he’d started bleeding. He raised his eyebrows to the Italian as if to say, “is that all you have?” but thought better than to say anything. While Mason was guaranteed to pay the most for the two men alive so that he could torture them to his own liking, there was a chance that he would still pay if one of them happened to die before he had his fun.

The men had Lecter and Graham strapped to dollies, and after wheeling them into the house and using the elevator to take them to the third floor, Cordell and another employee worked to dress the men for dinner. “You know what he plans to do with you, don’t you?” Cordell asked Hannibal.

“No,” Hannibal replied, “what?”

“He plans to eat you.”

“All as one course, or will I be around for awhile?”

Cordell laughed. “Oh no, he wouldn’t waste this once in a lifetime experience on just one night! Although, truth be told, he would had if I hadn’t talked him out of it. Oh no, I’m going to roast you, but only after I glaze you in orange, ginger, and honey. I’m going to start by feeding Mason your fingers. He’s been practicing on pig tails. He thinks they’re pretty boney, but I’m certain he’ll get the hang of it by the time he gets to start in on you.”

“And what about Mr. Graham,” Hannibal asked, his voice seemingly devoid of emotion.

“Oh, he’s really more collateral damage. If not for you, he wouldn’t even be here. Of course, it doesn’t help that he got Margot pregnant. But, if that’s your fault then his death’s going to be on your head, too. And, if I know Mason, he’ll kill Graham in front of you just to see how you react.” The disgraced doctor smiled at Lecter. “I can’t say that I blame him though. Thankfully, I never had sisters.”

Lecter and Graham were rolled into Verger’s main dining hall where they were transferred to dining chairs, and had straps placed around their chests and at their waists to prevent them from leaving. Mason rolled into the room shortly after they were brought to the table. “Good evening gentlemen, good evening! I’m so glad to see you both here.”

“Will Ms. Verger be joining you tonight, sir?” Cordell asked.

“No, sadly not. I think her constitution is a little too delicate for this. After all, it’s been awhile since Margot’s had a boyfriend, if you get what I mean.” Mason’s eyes sparkled with glee, and Cordell smiled in return. He knew Verger well enough to know when the man was happy despite not having lips with which to smile anymore.

After three plates of pork loin and asparagus were set in front of the men, Hannibal and Will were allowed to have use of their right arms. “I should make you just dive in like the pigs you are, but then I’d have to look at you and what’s the fun in that?” Verger taunted. Hannibal made polite conversation with Mason even though his captor kept explaining in graphic detail what he’d planned to do to their bodies. “Just remember, Dr. Lecter, that this is all your fault.”

“But everything is pre-ordained, Mason. We are not responsible for any of our choices. It is all up to God, or me, as the case may be.” Verger was not amused – he knew that Lecter was reminding him that everything he’d done to destroy and disfigure Verger and turn his sister against him was done to prevent him from doing what he liked best. _Besides, he always chose needy children so the inevitable cash settlement the kids received was essentially charity. How was that completely heartless?_

“Cordell, restrain Mr. Graham like the pig he is. Let Dr. Lecter watch Mr. Graham shovel up his food like swine.” Cordell moved towards Graham and bent over to place the man’s free hand back in the restraints when the seated man leapt up with all of his strength, clenching Cordell’s cheek in his bare teeth. He managed to rip a large piece out before spitting it on the table like a piece of unwanted gristle. Until then, Will hadn’t spoken or moved. He couldn’t eat anyhow, but he felt compelled to do something to not only get Hannibal’s attention, but of which Hannibal would approve. It worked – Lecter’s face broke into a grin as Cordell started to scream, writhing back, holding the spot where his cheek had been just a moment ago. Mason sat back, his eyes as wide as they could get. “Cordell, Cordell! Calm down! It’s just a cheek. You still have another one. Hell, I lost both of mine.” 

Lecter looked at Mason with genuine amusement. “That’s quite funny, Mason.”

“It’s not fucking funny! It’s horrible. I should fucking kill you!” Cordell shouted, sneaking a hand near Will to grab the missing part of his face. “I will fucking kill you both!”

Mason’s demeanor turned more serious. “Not yet, Cordell. As you told me, all good things to those who wait. That said, I feel as though the best of this dinner party has come and gone. Why don’t you take Dr. Lecter to the stables to be amongst the other animals? Have someone else deal with Graham. We don’t want you to end up looking like me.”

Will and Lecter were separated, Cordell taking Hannibal to the swine pens. He stripped Hannibal of his clothes, tying him with rope, before preparing a Verger swine brand to heat and emboss into Lecter’s back. Hannibal inhaled slightly from the pain, but he did not scream. After Mischa, he never screamed at pain. What else could possibly be worse than being fed one’s own family, unwillingly and unknowingly?

Will was taken to a spare bedroom on Mason’s wing that had housed the clothes he’d arrived in. He was wheeled into the room and the lights were turned off. He’d been cast off like an unappreciated piece of furniture for the time being. However, he had no clue that Mason had told his staff that he’d planned on skinning Will’s face while the man was still alive so that he could have one final skin graft before dumping Will’s body, bleeding face and all, into a pit where his pigs could fight amongst one another as to who would be getting the best of his organs.


	9. Redemption

Margot wasn’t sure why she’d gone down to visit Lecter. Maybe it was to say goodbye in case she never saw him alive again. She didn’t agree with Mason’s plan, but she was also beholden to him if she wished to live as a Verger instead of a pauper. If Mason said jump, she was trained to ask, “how high, brother dear?” 

Hannibal could discern the smell of Margot’s expensive perfume before he saw her heels standing in the pile of hay before him. “Margot, how are you?” He looked up as far as his restraints would allow.

“Hi, Dr. Lecter,” she replied, sadly.

“Do you plan on eating me too, Margot?”

“No. In fact, I tried persuading Mason months ago to just let all this go, stop trying to get you but… well, you know how _persistent_ he can be.”

“Indeed.”

Margot’s brother had his private surgical team perform an abortion on her against her will, but he had just recently told her that he had given the baby to a surrogate after all. “Mason says he kept my baby.”

“Oh, and how is that?”

“I don’t know. He won’t tell me. He says he found a surrogate though, and that he’s still alive.”

“He.”

“Yeah. A Verger heir. Finally. If he survives Mason’s wrath.”

“And if not?”

“Then I’m stuck with Mason. Again. And once he dies, I’m left with nothing.” Margot’s eyes had a way of welling up with tears when she talked about her brother, especially when it involved his abuse of her or her reliance on him.

“Why don’t you just ensure that Mason can’t hurt your child?” Lecter asked.

“How?”

“If you could find out where Mason was keeping your child, you could use a trusted ally to secure him before killing Mason yourself. Or, you could have me do it.”

Margot tilted her head in curiousity. “You’d do it?”

“I know that I told you in our sessions that I thought it would be the best therapy for you if you killed Mason yourself. You could still do it, just blame it on me. I’m already responsible for so many murders, what’s one more?” Lecter smiled. “Do you have someone whom you trust to guard your child until you’ve dealt with Mason?”

Margot immediately blushed and looked away. “Alana Bloom.” 

“Ah, yes. And so that is how you found me? Are you two together now?”

“You might say that.”

“And does she want children?”

“She wants me to have a child.”

“Because she knows that you want one to love, and to be a Verger heir, correct?”

“That’s Alana,” Margot smiled coyly while finally returning her gaze on Lecter.

“She is a singularly special woman.”

“… And I love her,” Margot admitted. 

“Well then, you must ensure that she will have enough time to ferret out where Mason has hidden your baby. And even with her involved, I’ll still help you. Talk to Mason and then come back here. Then, you just get the knife out of the jacket pocket of the Sardinian that’s asleep on guard, hand it to me, and I can free myself. You can be a free woman within 30 minutes, Margot.”

The woman bit her lip, tinted bright red from the lipstick she wore. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”


	10. Heartbreak

While weighing her options and whether she should trust Lecter, Margot left the stables to find her brother. When she’d found him in his bedroom, already in silk pajamas, she felt as though her heart would beat through her chest. “Mason, dear.”

“Margot! How are you, dear sister? We missed you at dinner. Did you hear about the excitement?”

“No. What happened,” Margot asked.

“Your man Graham got excited and bit Cordell’s cheek off. Can you believe it?” In Mason’s excitement, he’d started to drool.

“Wow, that’s…”

“Wild! It’s just wild. Just like a hog! Say Margot, what was it like to bed a hog?”

“Mason, please.”

The shell of a man inhaled deeply as any attempt to laugh usually resulted in a coughing fit. “I’m only ribbing you, sister dear. But, it must have been a wild ride, I can imagine.” He licked what remained of his lips, eyeing the length of his sister’s body before resting his eyes upon hers.

“Mason,” Margot stuttered, trying to avoid his lascivious gaze while steeling herself to ask the most important question she would ever pose to him. “Mason, you said you had a surrogate for my baby. Where’s the surrogate, where’s my baby now?”

“Oh Margot, can’t this wait until morning? I’m already in my jammies!”

“Mason, brother,” she stepped forward and put her warm hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Please, it’s my baby. I need to see him. I need to see--“ she gulped slightly, “our Verger baby.”

“Aww, Margot. You softy. You’ll make a good mother yet!”

“Take me to my baby, Mason. Take me to your little nephew.” She felt so sick. It made her feel like getting raped by him all over again. The only difference was that this time she was going along with the loving brother act solely to manipulate him; it still didn’t make it feel any better though.

“Okay, let’s go. You and me. You and me and baby makes three,” Mason sang as he lead her out of his bedroom and down a far corridor that, to Margot’s knowledge, hadn’t been used in years.

“Here he is. Here’s Baby Verger,” Mason exclaimed after Margot had entered the room where her surrogate and baby lay.

Tears instantly clouded her vision as Margot’s eyes saw through the harsh red light flooding the room to a gauze canopy framing a small bed. Trying to convince herself that she wasn’t seeing what was in front of her, Margot took two small steps forward before crumpling to the ground in a scream. “Why? Why?”

Mason could feel himself getting hard from his sister’s anguished cries. ( _He wondered if he could get some of her tears for later_.) “What’s wrong, Margot? I told you that I found you a surrogate. And Papa always said that we were hog people. So, I thought who better to finish your pregnancy than a pig!” He spat out the last word with glee.

“Mason? How could you? How could you?” Margot ran forward and shook the pig. It was heavily sedated and she wondered whether it would survive much longer. 

“Oh, look,” Mason interrupted. “Poor Baby’s vitals are… well, you’d best say your goodbyes, sister.” Margot looked over at the monitor and saw that while the pig had a faint heartbeat, both fetus’s heart and respiratory rates were slowing. “I’m so glad that you insisted we come down here tonight, Margot. I wouldn’t have wanted you to miss out on seeing your baby alive for one last time.”

“ **It’s the first time too, Mason. It’s the fucking first time, you fucking monster**!” Spit flew from her lips as she shouted at him, before taking the monitors off of the infant and holding him to her chest. Her teardrops fell upon the child’s head as she wiped them away, noticing a thin layer of dark brunette hair. Verger hair. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like if he could live to be a year old, five years old, twenty years old…

“Time for my beauty sleep, dear sister. Let me know if you want to have a funeral, and what you want to name it.” Mason turned and wheeled out of the room, knowing that if he pushed his sister any further that she would likely choke the life out of him.

They started small until Margot’s sobs grew into mournful wails. There is no grief quite as deep as that of a mother’s for her child. She cried until she began to scream. Janice, the woman who was primarily a housekeeper but also served as Cordell’s relief on his occasional day off, cautiously followed the cries until she found Margot. “Miss Verger. Miss Verger, are you okay?”

Margot looked up from rocking her baby. “GET ALANA! GET ALANA!”

Janice ran off and found Alana in the room she shared with Margot when she stayed over. “Dr. Bloom… Come!”

Alana grabbed a robe and slid her feet into the pair of slippers she kept at the Verger residence before running down the hall. She almost fell turning the corner and ripped the slippers off her feet as Janice began to ascend the nearest set of stairs. They went to the third floor, Mason’s floor. _Nothing good happened on Mason’s floor…_


	11. Mourning

How Mason managed to keep Margot’s fetus alive for so long was beyond Alana, as was the fact that neither she nor her lover had known about the baby until tonight. Her heart broke seeing the woman she loved on the floor, sobbing, clutching a baby that was already losing its colour. Alana wanted to turn on Janice and berate her. Despite Mason paying the bills, how any of the staff could have kept this from Margot, when she was the only Verger who treated them all decently, was unfathomable. But – and perhaps it was for the best – Janice had disappeared the moment that Alana had entered the room. This wasn’t a matter for the help, after all.

She didn’t know what to say, so she just went to Margot. She bent down and started to put her arms around Margot. The other woman jerked back, unaware who was near her. “No! You can’t take him. You can’t take him from me!” She fell back, resting against the pig’s bed as she held her dead child against her. 

Resigned to this bizarre reality, Alana slunk down next to her partner, letting her left arm slink behind Margot so that she could embrace her. “ _I’m so so sorry… I’m so so sorry… I’m so so sorry…_ ”

Alana let a finger go towards the baby’s tiny hand. She brushed its fingers; the child was so cold against her skin. “What should we name him?”

Margot turned to look at her for the first time. “We? This isn’t your baby.”

No one should ever have to express their love in such a situation, but Alana learned long ago that anything within Hannibal Lecter’s influence was tainted in a macabre fashion. Will was tainted, she was tainted, and now poor Margot was tainted more than them all. “Margot, I love you. And I love this child because he’s yours. And I will always grieve him because he’s part of you and you’re the most important person in my life.”

Margot looked hard into Alana’s eyes for the truth. However, Alana rarely lied, and in the absence of dishonesty, Margot saw compassion, truth, and love. Even after Mason had defiled her, Margot’s own parents hadn’t looked at her like that. (Instead, they insisted that she should forgive her brother because, after all, he loved her and they _were_ family.) 

“Alana, I don’t have an heir now. I don’t have anything. Dr. Lecter said that he would… get rid of Mason for me, but now I can’t let him because I have nothing.”

“You have me,” Alana replied. She took a breath to steel herself for what she would say next. “Let me talk to Lecter. He’ll know what to do. He’s always ten steps ahead anyhow; I’m sure he’s planned for contingencies.”


	12. Revenge

Seeing Hannibal Lecter again in this lifetime (or any others) was the last thing Alana Bloom wanted; however, to help prevent her partner from losing herself in grief, she would look Lecter in the eye and plead for his help if necessary.

Lecter saw her as she approached. “Alana, I was not expecting you. Is Margot okay?”

She wanted to kick him in the mouth until they were both bloodied and battered. Instead, she kept her composure while speaking through clenched teeth. “How much do you know?”

Lecter paused for a moment before answering. He was evaluating Alana’s mood and realizing that Mason had more up his sleeve than anyone had anticipated. “Margot told me that Mason had told her that he had saved her baby and placed it with a surrogate. She was going to talk with him and find the child’s whereabouts, and the plan was to have you safeguard the child while Margot released me to finish Mason, unless she decided to take care of him herself, that is.”

Alana looked at him, trying to decide whether he was omitting anything. She knew he wouldn’t lie to her, but omissions were another matter. “You were going to kill Mason for her?”

“Yes. Once she ensured that she had a Verger heir, there would be no further use for Mason.”

“Well, he’s made sure that won’t happen. I found her holding a dead baby…”

“That is a shame. Life is fragile and oftentimes fleeting. However, I can still help Margot if you’re willing to assist me.”

Alana eyed Hannibal. “What do you need me to do?”

“My security detail is still asleep. Bring me his knife, let me cut myself loose.”

“Why should I help you now?”

“If you free me, I’ll go find Will and do what you couldn’t – I’ll save him. Then, you and Margot can harvest Mason’s sperm. All you need to do is grab one of those electric cattle prods he loves using on the swine. You _are_ a doctour after all, so I’m sure that you can figure out what comes next. If you want me to kill Mason, I will. Otherwise, I’ll leave it in your hands. I have to assume that between the two of you, you are more than capable of killing a cripple.” 

Lecter’s last words stung her – he’d had Abigail push Alana out of a second story window, causing a multitude of breaks and fractures of her bones and ligaments. Alana had to endure over two years of painful physical therapy before she could walk with the aid of a cane.

“I’ll make sure that Mason’s taken care of. Promise me that you’ll save Will. I don’t care if you die doing it, but I never want to see you again.”

“As I told you once before, Alana, I always keep my promises.” Lecter smiled at his ex-lover as she went off to retrieve a knife.

“They were keeping Will down the hall from where you were, but they might have taken him to Mason’s surgical suite by now. It’s on the third floor.”


	13. Escape

Alana had looked at Lecter with undisguised disgust as he reached to grab the pocket knife she used to cut his right hand free. Lecter was not ambidextrous, so while he could make decent use of a knife with his left hand, he was appreciative to use his dominant hand. It just worked faster and had more precision, and this was not the time to dilly dally with subpar strikes.

Hannibal waited until after Alana left to rise from the stall in which he had been restrained. Somehow, the slovenly Sardinian had slept through both of Hannibal’s visitors. That fit him just fine as it gave him the element of surprise when he reached from behind the man to slit his throat. The feel of the knife slicing through the man’s flesh helped ground Lecter; it had been too long since he had killed anyone so deserving.

While he would have run through the mansion naked to save Will if he had to, Hannibal was happy to see that Cordell had hung his shirt and pants on a hook towards the door from the barn to the main house. He dressed quickly and grabbed a hunting knife he found lying nearby. Mason’s men’s sloppiness would be the man’s own undoing. 

Deciding to proceed as though he would be working against the worst case scenario, Hannibal made his way to the third floor. Hannibal was unaware, but Will was only a few rooms away from where Margot’s baby had been kept. In fact, he would come upon Cordell preparing to cut Will’s face off just down the hall from where Margot and Alana would be taking Margot’s ability to have a Verger baby from Mason. After harvesting his sperm, Mason’s sister, finally giving in to Lecter’s advice during therapy, held her brother under water until he drowned.

Despite having his cheek bit off, Cordell was in a good mood. His skill as a surgeon allowed him to reattach what Graham had bitten off, and he would be happy to indulge his sadist side to help Mason realise his goal of devouring Lecter. The fact that Mason decided to do so while using Graham’s face was the cherry atop the grisly sundae. Perhaps Mason would have spared Graham had he not attacked Cordell? Regardless, everything happened for a reason. While he went through some rough years, if Cordell hadn’t been stripped of his medical license in both Maine and Maryland, he wouldn’t have found himself employed by the Vergers. Instead of paying his dues working graveyard emergency room shifts, Cordell was given free room and board and was banking well over a half of million dollars a year for simply performing what Mason asked of him and keeping an open mind. 

In fact, Mason had stressed to Cordell how important it was that he keep an open mind when (former) Dr. Doemling interviewed with the head of the Verger estate. What Mason hadn’t expected was that Cordell Doemling had very little compunction about doing anything asked of him, especially if the price was right. In fact, of all of the men Mason had ever employed, Cordell was the star. He not only listened to what Mason requested, but oftentimes he would ask questions or make suggestions to heighten the results of whatever cruelty assigned to him. If Verger were to name one friend in his life at the moment, Cordell Doemling would be the closest person he had to a confidant.

The disgraced surgeon was happy to serve his master, and he was happy enough upon preparing Will Graham for his scalpel that he had started to whistle. Of course, the whistling wasn’t just for himself, but it was for Will Graham. It was to annoy Graham and heighten his sense of discomfort after he had injected his victim with a paralytic. Unfortunately, it was also his whistling that helped Lecter sneak up upon him in bare feet and stab him in his carotid arteries, spraying blood upwards as Cordell’s hands reached up blindly in an effort to fight off his attacker. Cordell was choking on his own blood, clawing at his own throat as Lecter removed the knives before working on the restraints that held Will in place.

Will could barely walk, but he had enough energy to allow Lecter to lead him to an elevator with an arm around his torso. He felt like hell. Will had been wondering whether Hannibal should have just left him to Mason’s devices when he heard Lecter’s voice breathe some life into him. “I promised Alana that I would save you at all costs.”

By that time, the men were just starting to walk away from the stables. Will turned his head slightly to view Hannibal in close profile. Lecter looked serene. He normally looked serene when Will interacted with him, as if he were fully self-composed whereas Will often felt as though he were schizophrenic. There was his voice, Lecter’s voice, sometimes Jack’s voice, oftentimes Alana’s voice. They were all there in his head. Sometimes, he even heard Margot’s voice whispering, “you’re as scarred as I am,” her breath hot on his skin as he had disrobed to show her his oldest wound from when he was shot.

Will was never as physically fit as Lecter, despite being over a decade younger. His body had also encountered more trauma than Lecter’s, at least until recently. While Hannibal had saved him in the nick of time, Will had already been cut, his temple dripping with blood. Not having actually recovered before being taken by Mason’s crew, Will was sore and miserable even before he took Cordell’s cheek off. But now? Now, his consciousness and his legs were failing him. In fact, it wasn’t long after the men had left the immediate premises that Lecter was practically dragging Will. Instead, realising that they would never escape with Will’s feet literally dragging behind them, Hannibal stopped for a moment to lift Will up as though he was a bride being carried over a threshold. 

Generally speaking, Hannibal was against committing grand theft auto, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the drunk who was asleep behind the wheel of his running Prius barely knew what happened before he was yanked out by his shirt collar and thrown into a nearby bush. Lecter shoved Graham into the sedan’s back seat before slamming the door and getting behind the wheel to drive them away from what would have surely been their own personal damnation. God loved to punish the guilty and the righteous alike, so Hannibal did not think that the lord would shun him for anything he did in his attempt to keep his promise to the woman who once loved him. Besides, he probably owed Alana some sort of apology anyhow, and what better way to provide such than by saving the man whose well-being they often both put above their own?

By some stroke of luck, the Prius had well over 500 miles left in its tank. Will woke up once, mumbling about having to use the bathroom. By that time, the sun had fallen and Hannibal felt safe enough to pull off on the side of an off ramp as if he had run out of gasoline and couldn’t quite make it to the nearby gas station. He opened the passenger door, reached in to help pull Will out of the car, and held the man as he relieved himself. After he had helped Will crawl into the backseat of the car, Hannibal unzipped his own pants knowing that not having to stop before the car gave out would help put them as far away from the Vergers as possible. After all, while he was confident that the woman he scorned would help her lover avenge the death of her child, there was always the possibility that Mason had writhed free of his fate like the Moray eel he so adored.


End file.
